


Analgesic

by amobisan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Complicated Interpersonal Relationships, Explicit Consent, Kinda, M/M, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Mildly Dubious Consent, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Unexpected Feels, handjobs, just delay I promise, now that i think about it, or at least, regardless of the explicit permission, which is important because whoo boy this is shady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amobisan/pseuds/amobisan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There's this, this perverse little quirk of human biology, this accident of nature -- Look. The doctors, and they're my doctors, you know I bought only the very best. They're saying that, well, something something cortisol hyperproduction, secondary adrenal something, the relevant point being, don't think I didn't see your eyes roll, how you can still be so prissy with that thing lodged in you? They said they can't actually find a way to operate to take the hunk of metal out of your body until you're not all tensed up from pain and pumping distress hormones like they're on sale. They haven't been able to tweak the morphine enough; there's still nothing that can stand up to your metabolism. No, uh, our best idea is a lot less… conventional than that.”</p>
<p>(This one's pretty much just porn, guys.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Analgesic

**Author's Note:**

> This is set ambiguously post-Civil War, but doesn't have any specific spoilers (there's a very vague reference to one element of the conflict, cut off partway through) and assumes the team eventually gets back together and goes back to Avenging. Also, I’m not a doctor, just an avid Wikipedia-based researcher with a bit of a kink, so while all the science is as accurate as I could make it, I could also be super, super wrong, and I *am* 100% confident that this is not an approved medical treatment, so don’t try it at home. Or anywhere, ever. Oh, also, if references to medical stuff is a squick/concern for you, deeeeeefinitely skip this one. 
> 
> Edited to add: Oh, also, some non-explicit incidental voyeurism (by parties not involved in the sex). Sorry for not warning before!

“Well hello, gorgeous,” Tony said as he pushed open the door to the private room they'd given Steve in Medical. His voice sounded wrong, all forced cheer, even though Steve knew Tony was a better actor than that, than to have any performance ever come off less than perfect. It had taken him months of working with the man to comprehend it, how someone could be _on_ all the time, but now they had returned to a solid mutual understanding if not exactly fondness, and this apparent crack in the mask was disturbing.

Steve cleared his throat with difficulty and spoke. “N-not that I'm not happy t’ see ya,” he broke off to pant wetly for a moment, “but this don't feel like exactly the time, even if ‘parently you think I'm still a looker coughin’ blood.”

Tony’s face twitched oddly at that before he launched into “Funny story, Cap, it _is_ exactly the time. There's this, this perverse little quirk of human biology, this accident of nature -- Look. The doctors, and they're _my_ doctors, you know I bought only the very best. They're saying that, well, something something cortisol hyperproduction, secondary adrenal something, the relevant _point_ being, don't think I didn't see your eyes roll, how you can still be so prissy with that thing lodged in you? They said they can't actually find a way to operate to take the hunk of metal out of your body until you're not all tensed up from pain and pumping distress hormones like they're on sale.”

Steve coughed again, a hacking sound that ended with a little drop of blood clinging to his bottom lip as he panted. “So,” he managed when he got his breath back, voice creaky but still wry, “if I want to get fixed so it stops hurting, first I have to stop hurting so it can get fixed?”

Tony grinned with too much teeth, answering “That's about the shape of it.”

“Still no luck modifyin’ the morphine?” Steve confirmed absently, already trying to come up with the next idea, the next possibility. The serum in his veins meant that the twisted hunk of acid-corroded steel, lodged at an angle from the curl of his right hip through a spot about an inch shy of his spine, couldn't _kill_ him, but the damage also meant he couldn't really move at all without re-injuring himself, and the pain from the wound healing and tearing, healing and tearing certainly wasn't anything he was eager to prolong. He needed the doctors to get this thing out of him so his body could finally heal for good, but they couldn't do their work until he came up with some way to manage the pain. He was beginning to consider the merits of asking Bruce how he meditated to push away discomfort, just as he had to stop the change when there'd been a minor lab explosion last week, when Tony spoke again.

“Yeah, no, no morphine, still nothing that can stand up to your metabolism. No, uh, our best idea is a lot less… conventional than that.” Steve glanced up in inquiry, just in time for Tony to finish bending down and give him a gentle and entirely unexpected kiss.

Steve pressed up into the kiss for just a second before jerking back, gasping with the pain of the sudden movement and choking out “What’re y’doing, Tony?” as he felt the nick on his lung he'd just given himself with the movement start to close over.

“That, uh. That quirk of biology I mentioned.” Tony glanced down at his own hands for a moment, as if to nerve himself up. “Fuck. Okay, so, if you're in pleasure, you won't be thinking about the pain, won't feel it. The vasopressin and oxytocin generated by, ah, anticipation will block out your pain receptors, push back the inflammation so they can get at the wound better -- even interrupt the HPA adrenocorticotropin hyperproduction so you'll stop pumping panic hormones and clenching hard enough to risk sending that thing into your spine every time the doctors make an incision like you were before. And I thought you'd want at least a kiss before I shoved a hand down your pants, you seem like that kind of guy.”

Steve boggled for a moment, trying to follow the line of logic. “You wanna have sex with me to … distract my brain into not knowin’ I'm hurt?”

Tony shifted again in what would have been discomfort on anyone else, answering “Essentially. Or, well, insofar as a handjob is sex, really, Cherry Pie, you need better standards. And not so much distraction as neurochemical preemption, but even I realize how little that detail interests you right now. So, ah. Are you…they said I had to ... do you consent to this, uh, experimental course of treatment?”

Steve flushed a little in discomfort at the prospect, but if the doctors thought it was his best shot… “Can’t I just, uh. See to myself? And then I can tell ‘em to come in over the intercom.”

Tony actually rubbed a hand over his face, looking rather more distressed than before, but sounded calm enough when he answered “Uh, no. On both fronts. They need to work on you while you’re still in the plateau; once you’ve already gotten off the neurochemical profile will completely change, could actually make things substantially worse without the proper pre-orgasm intervention. Which is a sentence I never expected to have to say. Uh, as for solo -- apparently there are actual studies, that, uh, partnered sex lowers the blood pressure during stress and solo doesn’t. And doing it with -- well, they studied romantic partners, but anyone trustworthy, probably, it should double the oxytocin during and quadruple the prolactin once you finish, maybe even enough to knock you out for a bit. Um. Assuming you _do_ trust me, that is. But unless that serum secretly lets you be in two places at once, you don’t have a girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever, so there’s just. Me. After that battle… I’m kind of the only person left on the team who’s both a) attracted to and experienced with men, and b) not laid up in their very own dreary cream-colored corner of Medical.” 

Steve took a deep breath in consideration, straightening, and promptly choked, curling back down  as the jagged edge of the girder sliced his lung open again, leaving his breath rattling in a way that sounded entirely too familiar to his younger life for him to be anything but unsettled. Tony blanched at the sound and hurried to help him lie back down, wincing at the fresh spurt of blood the movement produced. Steve cast about for any other option than -- than Tony doing _that,_ than _anyone_ doing that and with the doctors right there the whole time, but… he needed to get this thing out before it did any more damage, and if Tony and all his doctors combined couldn’t come up with a better option, well, then.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Okay is all I’m getting?” Tony asked. “Because this is, this is not normal, I know my baseline understanding of normality is not really like other people’s but I can pretty much tell this is not it. I’m kind of going to need a little more confirmation that you’re actually willing than, than a two letter colloquialism best expressed by hand gesture.”

In a weird way, Tony’s high-speed babbling was actually comforting, familiar. Steve felt his mouth twitch in a wry half-grin at that thought before he panted out, careful of his still-healing lungs, “Yeah, I’m willin’. It sounds like the best idea the docs can come up with to get this thing out of me and let me get back to work, and I … trust you. So yes. Do it.” _I even managed to make my voice even-keeled and commanding for that_ , he thought to himself as the blush he’d been trying to hold at bay crept up the back of his neck and over his face.

Tony leaned briefly across Steve's chest to hit the intercom button and send the doctors in, giving Steve a deep breath of his cologne, something rich and spicy underlaid with a hint of engine grease and metal, a scent that always clung to Tony after battle and that no one could replicate. Steve wondered, then, how Tony had known that… that Steve'd enjoy cologne too, not just perfume. He'd heard about ‘gay-dar' but still had no idea how modern fellas could tell, just by looking. Then again, back hom-- back in the 40s you could usually figure out how a fella might swing, if you knew how to look. Steve figured he must've just not caught onto what the signs were now -- which was something to worry about when not about to undergo extremely humiliating surgery. However Tony knew, he knew, and Steve would just have to hope he wasn't giving any signs that were clear to people who didn't know him personally. He knew it wasn't illegal anymore, to like all kinds of folks, but he'd always preferred to keep himself to himself about that sort of thing, no matter how much modern people seemed to like to talk about -- his thoughts were interrupted by another kiss, slower, this time, the scratch of neat goatee more noticeable, and featuring a slick slide of tongue against Steve's closed lips. “You looked deep in thought,” Tony said when he pulled back. “Can't have that, you're already stressed enough without meditating on, oh, 1940s gay panic or bald eagles crying or whatever was happening in your unfairly perfect head.” 

Steve flushed in annoyance this time, opening his mouth to tell Tony off when he realized that it didn't hurt quite so bad, now, with him focused on Tony’s familiar just-over-the-line needling, and then Tony’s mouth was on his again, still gently coaxing even as he deepened the kiss. After a moment, the door opened to admit three of the doctors who'd previously examined his injury and Steve pulled back a little, breaking the kiss as he gazed at his own lap. _Man up, Rogers, they're going to see a hell of a lot more than a kiss._ Still, it didn't hurt to… “I assume Tony’s informed all three of you about the… plan. If you would be uncomfortable having to see… that, you can step out, I won't take it personally or judge you for it,” he said, eyes still lowered so he wouldn't have to see their expressions.

“Captain Rogers, we're all very aware of the details of the procedure; we helped him develop it. And I, for one, can assure you that not only will I not be uncomfortable, but I promise to hold everything that happens here in the very strictest confidence,” the head doctor -- Munez? Nuñez? -- offered, quickly accompanied by noises of assent from the other two. Well, then. No way forward but through.

“What would the best position be? What precisely will you be doing?” Steve asked for lack of anything better to contribute. He could at least focus on the logistics, the sheer three-dimensional blocking of how this was going to play out, rather than thinking about how it would feel.

“There is a foreign object, nearly half a meter in length, lodged in your lower right abdomen, as I'm... sure you're aware,” he said, nodding at Steve's faintly pained expression. “Sorry, this is going to be several leagues away from anything they taught us in med school -- already is, really, given that any normal human would have died from shock within sixty seconds of insertion -- so we're going to stay close to best practices wherever possible, work from first principles. The base of the girder shard is lodged against your ilium, which means we're going to have to pull up, at least enough to clear it of the pelvic cradle. The problem is, it entered at an angle and the other end is essentially resting on top of your eleventh rib and is situated very close to your spine, meaning the safest option is to open you up along nearly the entire length of the object and pull it out at the safer angle that presents, which is not something I ever imagined having to tell a patient. Our earlier attempts indicated that the serum appears to increase the speed of healing in proportion to the level of stress the patient is experiencing, causing our incisions to seal before we could get more than a few inches down, and jostling the debris in the process. So, we recommend lying on your left side, yes, there. We'll make the incision on your mid back and angling down so that the girder is getting incrementally further from your lungs and other ventral organs as we go, which will let them start healing sooner, and you won't have to see what we're doing. Just… focus on Mr. Stark and try to relax,” he finished, already helping Steve roll over to his side carefully. Steve felt his liver slice open again, the blood sluggishly leaking from his side going black for a few moments before it mostly healed and the doctor said “Okay, Mr. Stark. Begin, and we'll join in once he's relaxed at least a little.” 

Steve felt an uncharacteristic jolt of fear at that thought, of not knowing when the hit would be coming and having a stranger at his back, but then Tony was bending down, kissing him again, sweet and searching. “Hey,” the other man murmured after a moment, “Let's get those pants open, yeah? You know, when I designed this suit to be removable in pieces, I did not expect to be using that functionality to give you a five-fingered hello after battle. I was mostly trying to mitigate material costs and seam weakness in repairs, making it modular. Handy, heh, side benefit, though, yeahhh, there we go,” he finished as the last catch popped open and the lower half of Steve's uniform detached from the rest. Tony made quick work of the suit’s well-hidden fly -- actually designed for frequent opening and closing, unlike the uniform’s component fasteners -- and murmured, “Yeah, that's better, right? I know you're a virgin and all, but even you can't want to come in your pants your first time.”

And that was, that was so _Tony_ , he thought abruptly. Trying to cover up his kindness with abrasive jokes and casual insults, keep people focused on his mouth and not his hands, like some kind of magician. Steve felt a little involuntary pang of something, of _liking_ go through him at the thought. They'd never agree on everything, probably never really stop quarreling either, but Steve couldn't help but respect Tony a little more, want to know him a little better, yearn to rebuild the rapport they’d once had, with every brief glimpse he got behind Tony's masks. _Well,_ he thought a bit wryly, _I’m about to know Tony Biblically_. _That's a_ kind _of better._

Tony kissed him some more as he eased the uniform pants down, tugging gently until Steve pushed up, lifting his hip to let them slip all the way off and losing a few seconds to the pain after that. When his vision cleared, Tony was stroking the skin of his right hip soothingly, several inches below the ugly tear in his side the girder had reopened, and murmuring something in a consoling tone, saying “--rry about that, I wasn't thinking through the mechanics, which, yes, I'm horrified and humiliated. I thought you'd want us not to cut up your uniform if we could. Probably would have taken my lucky diamond-bladed reciprocating saw from the workshop to do it and I don't know a ton of guys eager to have one of those near their junk, even with your persistent Daredevil-esque thrill issues. You know, Natasha told me about all the times you elected to disembark a plane at 50,000 feet without fussing with that whole parachute nonsense we mere mortals fa-- hey, you're back with me, an eyeroll is a clear sign of consciousness, but rude, oh Captain my Captain, very rude, that apple-pie reputation is starting to flake -- mmph,” he finished, breaking off as Steve kissed him, admittedly clumsy but as sweet as he could manage. 

“I'd enjoy havin’ a lil less iron in my system, Tony. Let's let them get to it. How, uh, how do you want to” he broke off, gesturing vaguely with his right arm and hissing when that managed to jostle something inside him against a sharper edge of the shard.

“Woooah, easy, there, Cap, easy. Here, let me do all the work, I know it's out of character but, here. Shears. I didn't think you’d weep at the loss of, huh, guess that answers the immortal boxers-or-briefs question. Nice, by the way, figured it'd be extracting you from tidy-whities, or maybe a chastity belt, not black Underarmor performance briefs, though I should have guessed, given the name it's sort of _instructing_ you in what they're for--”

“Steve.” 

“Hmm?” Tony asked idly, attention clearly on the safety shears slicing easily through Steve's underwear, which he was kinda grateful for. They may be designed to be accident-proof, but feeling a cool thin line of what he knew to be very sharp metal sliding along his inner thigh still made him uncomfortable on a reflex level.

“It's, we're. I'd like it if you at least used my name while we're doing this, even if you otherwise won't,” he said, flushing a little when Tony darted a glance up at his eyes, evidently surprised.

“Yeah, okay. Steve. I. Assumed you'd be imagining someone else, someone… not-me. Only your friends call you Steve.”

Steve sighed, dearly wishing they could be having this conversation just about any other time but now, and said “You _are_ one of my friends, Tony. As crazy as you make me sometimes, of course I still count you as a friend. We've been through hell and back together, and you're a good man.”

“If I'm your friend, why didn't you _tell_ \-- that isn't helpful. Damn it, I'm supposed to be _relaxing_ you.” Steve felt one more _snip_ , snug against his lower back, and then the shreds of his briefs were falling away, and Tony was _looking_ at him down there, eyes going dark, and Steve felt himself twitch to life, starting to harden a bit under the other man's appraising gaze. “Okay, that's good, that's better,” Tony said, stroking over Steve's cock slow and teasing. “Just, uh, imagine Rosie the Riveter, I guess, she's hot, probably has hands as callused as mine from all that, uh, patriotic riveting, shouldn’t be too much of a distraction. Sorry neither of the female Avengers could help, Wanda’s out cold from overuse of her powers and Nat broke her wrist pretty badly, she's on enough painkillers to probably fall asleep on you even if she tried using her off hand. But I've gotten very acquainted with plenty of guys _and_ have four fully functional limbs, so here I am and huh, look at that, you're getting excited way faster than I would have thought for a straight guy. Which of the girls are you picturing? Natasha with her thighs around your neck, pulling you down and then putting your mouth to use? Wanda using her powers to spark lightning under your skin, make you tingle all over? Maybe Blondie, what was her name, Shannon, no -- Sharon, your old neighbor. Thinking about her being a little more than neighborly?”

Steve flushed, hips rolling forward on instinct, before he winced and stilled himself again. “Sharon, huh. Well, she's very hot and it's only a little creepy, and all the creepy is on her side with the whole reliving Aunt Peggy’s romance thing, so hey, go for it. What are you thinking about? Maybe getting her to ride you? Bet she'd look great like that, tits bouncing, the muscles in her thighs standing out as she moves, bet she's gotta be _built_ to be able to fight like that as a plain human. Go on, Steve, tell me what you're picturing,” Tony finished as he thumbed over the head of Steve's cock, smearing the little bead of precome there and making Steve pant in excitement even as he distantly felt something cool and slim press against the meat of his lower back, unimportant for now. 

Steve flushed harder, then, because he _hadn't_ been picturing a woman, because he'd thought he was safe, awash in relief that Tony hadn't figured him out after all and kinda enjoying the thought of knowing what it might be like with another fella without having to tell anybody anything, but he’d let his damn guard down, wasn't exactly up to much of a lie right now and that meant that Tony would catch him and --

“Woah, hey, hey, relax, C-- Steve. You were doing really well there, they're nearly down to the girder at the top, come on, yeah, that feels good, right, calm down…”

Steve closed his eyes tightly, not wanting to see the smug victory in Tony's face as he admitted quietly “I wasn't pretending you were a woman.”

Tony made a confused noise for an instant before saying “Oh,” just as quietly.

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” Steve said, eyes opening as shards of brittle pride sent a sneer into his tone. “Go on, then. I'm sure you've already got a thousand good jokes about it, you always do. Captain America salutes stars _and_ stripes, Captain America’s flag waves both ways, Captain America’s cock thinks all people are created equal _._ Let's hear ‘em.”

Tony just looked solemn and almost … guilty for a moment before saying, still too quiet and serious, “I'm sorry you didn't get a choice about how you told me, whether to tell me at all. That you didn't feel comfortable telling me before now. I… didn't make the Tower or the compound the safest spaces for you, did I? I'm sorry for that, too.”

Steve … hadn't expected that. He'd never actually said it before, said it out loud however indirectly, not even to himself. He was pretty sure Bucky knew, Bucky knew things about him before Steve himself did, but they never, ever talked about it. He knew what to do with an insult, how to defend himself from all kinds of attacks, but he couldn't bear Tony being so _kind_ about this, _this_ of all things, his hand shifting to stroking gently over Steve’s hip to ward off the dawning realization of pain, of a wrongness in the muscles of his back. “I. You’re already here, and now you know, and I don’t want -- don’t tell anyone else. Just… get it done, Tony,” he said, jaw tight and gaze sliding off into the floor.

“Hey, hey, easy. Look at me, Steve,” Tony said, cupping his tense jaw and making tentative eye contact. “Look, we can take a break if you want, try again later. Or wait for Natasha or Wanda to wake up and ask them if they're willing. I am a gold-star asshole in many, many ways, but I've _never_ pursued an unwilling bedmate. If you want me to leave, say so and I will, no harm, no foul.” 

“I _want_ to stop hurting, to get this out of --” Steve started, before Tony interrupted him.

“It's not just going to go away, you know, no matter how closeted you are or how hard you pr--" Steve covered Tony's mouth with his right hand, trying to grit his teeth through the pain of the movement.

“I wanna get rid of the goddamn _girder_ , Tony!” he burst out, and the familiar annoyance was strangely reassuring. “You’re here, you’re ...informed, you’re well-qualified, and I trust that you can keep your damned mouth shut after, so just… help me. Please,” he finished, losing steam somewhat.

“Foul language, oh Captain my Captain?” Tony quipped, but some of the tightness in his expression had eased, his eyes soft and almost… warm. It made Steve uncomfortably aware of how attractive Tony was. He'd known in an abstract sense, that yes, Tony Stark was a very good-looking man, but he'd never really let himself notice that his teammate, his friend, was handsome, and funny, and even kind under all his defenses. It changed things, shifted the mood abruptly from fellow-soldier-giving-medical-aid to something... intimate, something that made his cock start to regain what little ground he'd lost during their brief argument, maybe even something… nice. If he let himself think about it, there was a very handsome man touching him, for the very first time, offering him pleasure and comfort and oh, yeah, okay, he's back, uh, back where he was a moment ago. Tony gazed at him, eye-to-eye and too perceptive by far, and cocked an eyebrow for a moment before nodding and leaning down again, kissing Steve like they had when Tony was trying to ease him into the idea of letting this happen at all, of sex as medical treatment. _Insofar as a handjob is sex_ , Steve remembered abruptly, and then wondered what it would be like to go further than that, to actually sleep with Tony properly. He had a heck of a reputation, and at least some of it had to be earned. Tony went back to petting his cock and he moaned even as he speculated. Was he bossy, assertive? Steve normally would have guessed so, as cocky as Tony always was, assumed that any kind of sex with him would be a sweaty struggle for dominance, but… Tony had been gentle, coaxing, with this. Would he be like that with a normal partner? Checking on them… on him… explaining things to him, teaching him how things worked between two men. Or maybe he’d be bossy as ever, but the other way, order Steve to give it to him just right, just the way he wanted it, that seemed like Tony. He’d made the whole world better just because that was the way he wanted it, the way he thought it should be.

Steve bit his lip a moment, thinking, but he wasn’t really sure how all this could get _more_ humiliating, and he’d really liked it when Tony was talking… “If,” he started, before stalling out. _C’mon, man up, Rogers, this is no kind of battlefield._ “If we were doing this, _really_ doin’ it, not just on account of me bein’ hurt. If you wanted to with me. How’d you wanna do it?”

He was watching Tony’s face closely, waiting for an answer, so he caught the little flinch near the end of his question, and wondered what that was about. Tony’s eyes closed, just a heartbeat too long for it to be a regular blink, but when he opened them they were still dark with desire and some sort of emotion Steve couldn’t place. Tony’s grip on Steve’s cock tightened, wrist twisting on the next stroke, and Steve gasped in surprised pleasure at the feeling. Tony kept going, hand working as he started to answer. “I’d take you out, first. To a proper dinner. You’ve never gone on a date until you’ve had a Stark take you out on the town. Get you all dressed up in a suit, a nice one, not one of those two sad off-the-rack monstrosities you let Coulson buy you for when you were trying to ‘blend’ on missions. I don’t think he even got the damn things tailored; they’re an insult to the closet they hang in. Put you in a proper suit and take you somewhere nice, one of those places that does throwback European fusion, which you secretly love but pretend not to and think the rest of us don’t know better. Give you good meal and a couple glasses of a decent vintage, not because it would get you tipsy, but because I think you’d like the taste for its own sake if you ever tried something better than the rotgut Clint convinced you to drink during a couple of those movie nights. Let everyone see how gorgeous you are, that you’re having a good time out with me. Then I’d take you home, bring you up to the penthouse -- don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking at the landing pad, I know you want to sketch on it, but you never come up there, haven’t been up there since Loki, literal _years_ you’ve been denying yourself. All you had to do was ask.” Tony said, and Steve flushed.

“It’s your bedroom. It wouldn’t be right,” he murmured, voice low and rough even to his own ears from enjoying Tony’s attentions, the slow, teasing strokes.

Tony’s face flickered with something complicated for an instant before he went back to his wickedly distracting narrative, hand moving sure and easy, driving Steve closer and closer to the edge. “I’d take you up to the penthouse, up to my _bedroom_ , and show you what the skyline looks like from that high, what our city’s like when nothing’s on fire. I’d think about taking you out onto the gantry so we could make love under the stars, but not this time. For our first time, I’d lead you to my bed, kiss you, and start with working off your tie. Tie’s always a good plan, indicates the direction things are heading but leaves plenty of time to back out with a minimum of awkward re-dressing, if that was what you wanted. But you wouldn’t want to leave, would you?” Tony asked, pausing.

Steve blinked for a moment, lost in the vision Tony had described and the pleasure of his touch. “Nnnn, Tony. I… I wouldn’t want to go anywhere. I’m, mmmhm, think I’m close, almost there, c’mon.” He knew a fair bit about sex in the abstract, after some very embarrassing internet-search help from JARVIS that he dearly hoped Vision was either unaware of or too polite to mention, and it seemed like it was generally the done thing to warn whomever you were with when getting close to finishing. He’d also learned that, at least by modern standards, he was a ridiculously easy touch even for a virgin, which he kinda blamed on the serum. Everything was just so _intense_ , and Tony’s hand felt so _good_ , and no, why was he slowing down?

“Easy there, Quickdraw,” Tony said, “Not til the docs are finished. Plateau phase is what we’re after. You aren’t getting the rest of the way there until they’re done.”

Steve heard himself whimper, hips rolling on instinct, but a sharp pain from somewhere near his kidneys corrected him. Right. Doctors. Medical treatment. Tony was just helping out a teammate, not actually _interested_ or anything. Tony was a salesman, was the king of ‘spin,’ was just whipping up a fantasy he knew would appeal to Steve’s craving for romance, for a relationship, alongside the sex. He sighed softly before asking “And once you, um, had my tie off?,” even as he felt his cheeks flush again.

Tony kissed him again, then, very slowly, almost searching as he gently guided Steve to open his mouth, slipping his tongue inside in a tentative caress, not just sexual but maddeningly _intimate_. After a long moment he pulled away, and said “Then I’d kiss you, just like that. I’d start unbuttoning your shirt collar, be able to get at your neck like this,” and his free hand was ghosting over the bare vee exposed by the opened fastenings on the shredded remains of his uniform’s jacket, already gaping where they’d been opened to let the doctors employ some kind of saw, which kind he hadn’t seen, to cut open the back of his uniform at the beginning of treatment, long before he’d learned that he’d have to give up his virginity to get a hunk of metal taken out of his side. Tony shifted, then, repositioning without ever losing his grip on Steve’s cock, without even pausing his steady, teasing stroking, _dear Lord he wasn’t kidding about being experienced_ , and started kissing at Steve’s neck. He shivered under the new sensations, surprisingly intense, even as Tony’s hand slowed a fraction further, as if compensating for the extra source of, of pleasure. “You have a nice neck,” Tony murmured into his skin, nipping gently at Steve’s jaw before licking over the reddened spot, ooh, that was interesting. “Weird to notice, I know, but a lot of guys built like you, they go all roid-rage tree-trunk neck, never my thing. Yours is nice. And I can do all kinds of nice things to it, see…” he trailed off, licking a spot halfway down Steve’s neck, over the tendon, and then biting down, not painfully, just, oh, oh, wow. And then he was dragging his teeth across the muscle, sucking what felt like a massive bruise into the spot he’d picked, and Steve hadn’t ever really understood what people meant when they made jokes about someone being a _biter_ , but he sort of got it now and wow. “I’d push your jacket off, then, anything to get my hands on you a little more. Get to feel you up a bit. There’s just something about a man putting on, or taking _off_ , a crisp white button-down, you ever notice that? So I’d just pet your arms and shoulders a bit, see if maybe you’d start taking your shirt off yourself, give me a little show, huh?”

“I’d, uh. I’d want to. Probably mess it up, end up popping off some of the buttons tryin’,” Steve responded after Tony was silent a moment, eyebrows raised almost encouragingly.

Tony chuckled, low and audibly desirous. “That would hardly be ‘messing it up,’ seeing you so get excited you managed to rip off your own shirt. Then, hmm. You definitely seem like the clean white A-frame undershirt type, huh? End up stripping out of your dress shirt, those pretty arms shifting, showing off, and leave just a nice, hmm, portrait frame of a tank top afterwards, just to emphasize how broad your shoulders are, how nice you lo… _would_ look for me. Um. In theory,” Tony said, blinking for a beat. The strange pause made Steve notice that Tony was breathing a little harder than he really needed to be just for giving a -- even in his own thoughts he stuttered saying it -- a _handjob_ and talking, and Steve darted a glance down the length of Tony’s body, checking for a hidden injury, and oh, _oh_ , story time was getting him excited too. He must really love the sound of his own voice after all. It was sexy, though, to at least get to pretend that Tony was enjoying this too, that they were sharing something more than just another round of post-battle patching up. His hips rolled again, getting impatient with the delay, the teasing, however necessary, and Tony tsked softly. “Nope, no can do, Steve. No coming, not yet. You’re doing great, though, really good, just, uh. Would you push me onto my knees, then? Want to fuck my mouth?” he asked, and Steve choked for reasons that had nothing to do with the girder he could still distantly feel lodged among his insides.  

“N,no,” he managed after a moment, face flaming. “Um. You’re, um, you would, um, still be dressed. I. Would you let me see you? Now?” Even as he asked it, he looked away. Well, if Tony had any doubt left, there it went.

Tony drawled “What, scarred-up middle-aged greasemonkeys do it for you? Well, they say it takes all sorts..” but even as he teased Steve for his tastes, the hand not gradually driving Steve to desperation left off petting Steve’s neck and started flying through the complicated catches on Tony’s sleek black undersuit. “Want things to be a little more even, huh? Not like you haven’t seen me half-dressed before in the showers, but…” he let go entirely for just a moment, shrugging the rest of the way out of the top half of his flightsuit, baring himself to the waist even as he finished pulling his arms from the sleeves and went back to touching Steve. Steve himself barely noticed the momentary pause, too caught up in looking, and sure, he’d technically _seen_ before, but he’d been careful not to let himself _look_ , not to let his gaze linger or risk anyone noticing. He’d never had permission before, never had someone shirtless next to him with, with intent, touching him intimately and talking about all the dirty things he’d want to do together. Tony did have scars, lots of them, in a radial pattern around a too-smooth patch of skin right in the center of his sternum. He also had muscle, hard-wearing muscle that looked … functional, somehow, like he had it because he used it rather than out of a sense of vanity, which only made it more interesting. His nipples were dark, small and peaked and somehow mesmerizing, and Steve found himself reaching out to brush one with his thumb, heedless of the faint discomfort in his right flank the movement caused. Tony shivered at the contact, breath faintly catching, before he said “Y-yeah, okay. Right. So you strip me out of my suit, huh? You gonna shove me onto the bed, climb on top? I bet that would feel good. You could pin me pretty easily, you know. You always kick my ass whenever it’s our turn in the sparring rota.”

Steve blushed, feeling a distant, uncomfortable tugging somewhere in his back that seemed unimportant compared to what Tony was saying, the way Tony was touching him, and how quickly the need to _finish_ was growing. “Um. Actually, uh,” he paused, jaw going tight as he took a deeper breath to force himself to say it, and huh, that breath felt peculiar, but that didn’t really matter right now. “I could go on my knees. For you. Um. Right now, too, if you wanted. Well, I mean, I couldn’t kneel, but. My... mouth.”

Tony’s thumb brushed across Steve’s lips speculatively, and then it was Steve’s turn to shiver, ugh, that didn’t seem quite right. “That’s… very sweet of you to offer, Steve, but this is for you. Besides, uh, the doctors would probably prefer if you keep still for them.”

Then Dr. Nuñez spoke for the first time since this… procedure began. “Actually, if he could keep his right arm forward like that, it’ll give us much better access now that we’re about half-way down to it. It’s a miracle the girder didn’t get caught between any of the fixed ribs, to let us pull it out at this angle. Anything beyond that is entirely up to you, and of course will remain sealed under the strictest possible doctor-patient confidentiality standards. But… anything that keeps the focus properly directed can’t hurt.”

That sounded like it wouldn’t threaten the procedure or anything, might even help, if Steve got to participate a bit more… he let his hand fall slowly, tracing a line from Tony’s nipple down the ridges of his abs, toying with waistband of his half-removed undersuit before daring to run a finger over the fairly obvious bulge of Tony’s cock, hard under the suit. Tony shuddered at that, eyes fluttering closed at the contact, before he wrapped one long-fingered hand around Steve’s wrist, pulling his hand away. “That’s, that’s really very sweet, Steve, but you don’t have to do anything. It’s fine.”

Steve looked up at Tony, took in his subtle flush, his dilated eyes and slightly-too-fast breathing, not to mention all the evidence he’d felt a moment before. Tony was interested in him, at least physically interested and at least for right now, for this whatever-it-was they were both doing as the doctors cut on him. Steve made eye contact, let it linger a moment, and licked his lips before asking “Let me? Like we were doing this just because we wanted to. Please.”

Tony’s eyes followed the movement of Steve’s tongue, shining, before he reached down to casually work the last few catches on the undersuit and then it was slowly opening, seeming to part right along the dark trail of hair leading down from Tony’s navel, revealing the sharp points of his hip bones before, oh. Steve had known, generally, what other fellas looked like when they were excited, had figured out how to look up some blue pictures on the internet even without JARVIS’s help, but he hadn’t quite connected those too-slick movies with what it might actually be like to have a man in front of him, _aroused_ for him, close enough to touch. He found himself biting his lower lip without really thinking about it, hesitating just a moment before reaching out a hand in the same careful stroking motion as when Tony was clothed, and the reaction that got him was awful encouraging. Tony’s grip on him down there tightened fractionally for a few tugs before slacking again, going back to teasing, fuck. But he could take the teasing, now, because he had better things to focus on than the aching need of his own dick _or_ the mostly-suppressed pain coming from the lower half of his back as the doctors murmured to each other, manipulating the girder shard inside his body. Steve licked his lips once more before wrapping his hand around Tony’s cock, starting to mimic the other man’s movements, slow and teasing at first until he had a better idea of what Tony actually liked.

“D -- D’ya like that, Tony?” he tried. He’d never actually done dirty talk before, but this was a night for firsts, so he was going to give it a try anyway. “Maybe you’d like my mouth more? I’ve never done that before, but, um, you could, um, I could just hold still for you. I can hold my breath for about ten minutes at a time, which, that would be good, right? You could…” he trailed off, unsure. He’d seen a couple of pictures that had one fella using his mouth on another, but he still wasn’t 100% on how all the mechanics would work out. Tony seemed average, down there, maybe a tiny bit more, but that was still a lot to try to shove down his throat, and Steve wasn’t keen on the prospect of coughing or choking with a hunk of sharp metal right next to his lung.

Tony keened, high in his throat, rolling his hips forward in Steve’s grasp, oh, he must’ve really liked that notion. “St-Steve, that’s, fuck, that’s so damn hot. But I shouldn’t, it’s, this is really not a normal situation. You have options, you know, you can explore your sexuality with anyone you’d like, you could have a line of interested applicants literally several miles long if you wanted. This isn’t your only chance or, or anything like that. You can save that stuff for someone special to you.”

Steve heard the quaver in the other man’s voice, though, felt the way he twitched underhand -- which was pretty neat, really -- when Steve had made his suggestion. He bit his lip again briefly, thinking, which drew another little mostly-stifled noise from Tony, and then let go of Tony’s cock entirely. Tony frowned minutely at the loss but didn’t complain, which was sort of out of character for him, and seemed confused when Steve curled his now-free hand around Tony’s left hip and started pushing gently, steadily. A normal man probably couldn’t have managed it, not with his arm at full extension, but Steve had given up normal a long time ago and for the moment was just grateful that he was strong enough to push Tony a foot or so up the length of the bed, getting him roughly in line before shifting his hand-hold from Tony’s hip to his rear, which, wow that felt nice, to pull him forward, bringing him close enough that Steve only barely had to lean forward to lick the head of his cock, standing out hard and proud. The taste wasn’t quite what he expected, mostly just skin with a hint of something slightly bitter, and the whole idea seemed… fine. Not amazing or anything, and the physical particulars of some of the later bits were still puzzling, but it didn’t hurt or feel strange or anything. He tried again, licking a bit further and more slowly, and Tony’s open-mouthed gape of shocked pleasure was really, really satisfying, which encouraged him to try a little more, closing his mouth around the head and sucking gently. Tony groaned loudly at that, the steady motion of his left hand stuttering, and Steve found himself grinning, cock slipping from his mouth, which was a _strange_ thought but not… not bad. He may not have exactly picked tonight to lose his virginity, but if he was gonna do it, he was going to get everything he could from the experience. He licked the head once more before saying “C’mon Tony. You were just getting to the good part of the story,” and going back to licking at Tony’s dick some more, still strange to think about but kind of nice.

“That, that is so unfair on so many levels, oh my God, Captain America is a dirty, dirty cheat, you can’t expect me to focus when you’re -- mmmph, fuck, that’s nice. Fuck, story, right. Y-you were going on your, your knees, still in slacks and one of those clean white tanks you’d like. You already got all my clothes off, s-sly little minx that you are. Fuck, your mouth is nice, would be nice in my bedroom too. You’d look gorgeous kneeling on my bedroom floor, hair silver in the moonlight, skin glowing.” Tony ran his fingers gently through Steve’s hair, grown back out to something a little more familiar to his older life, bangs messy across his forehead until Tony brushed them back again, almost petting, which was kind of nice. He didn’t think he’d be very keen on someone grabbing hard and holding him in place like some of those pictures’d had. “Would -- would you want to open me while you sucked, huh? Multitasking, seems very you, very efficient. Tactical, really, preparing forrrr, mmhm, that’s good, for the next phase of the attack. You’d want to fuck me, right? That, hmn, that squeeze there suggests you like the concept generally, or at least like my ass, which, it’s an excellent ass, you should like it. I have it on pretty reliable authority that it’s at least as nice to fuck as it is to grope. Be a nice way to pop your cherry, yeah?” Steve frowned, still occupied with trying to take Tony down further, because really, there was no need to be so… crude about it, to cheapen the momen-- the game of _pretend_ Tony that was only making up to keep Steve excited, the intimacies he was only allowing to preserve Steve’s distraction. He’d fallen into thinking this was something else again, damn it.  

Tony seemed to notice his discontent, though, and said “Huh. Or maybe you don’t want to fuck me after all? You like having me in your mouth, instead -- actually _like_ sucking, maybe? Not just doing it to be nice? You’re surprisingly, mmph, surprisingly good at it. Would you want to just finish me off like that, then maybe have me return the favor? Curl up to sleep together under the moonlight?” He sounded skeptical but kind of excited by the prospect, and Steve took that moment to roll his hips forward a little more, _yes_ , getting Tony to tighten his grip a bit, finally get himself a bit closer, and pulled out one of the few tricks he’d been able to reliably glean from his research, pushing farther down and hollowing his cheeks as he sucked a little harder. Tony grunted out a breathless “Ohhhhhhhhh fuck” at that, quieting for a moment even as Steve found himself choking on nothing at the abrupt too-intimate tugging sensation in his, eugh, _inside_ his abdominal cavity.

“We’ve commenced the removal. We’re going slowly to minimize incidental tearing in the process, should only need three, maybe four more minutes before it’ll be out and we’ll be all done,” a voice offered from somewhere behind Steve’s back and huh, he’d entirely forgotten there were doctors working on him at all, so focused on Tony’s touch, Tony’s pleasure, Tony’s _attention_. If it was nearly over, then -- then Tony would leave soon, then this impossible moment between them would be over, and Steve still hadn’t -- he took a deep breath, ignoring the now-shallower cut that inflicted to his right lung, and worked his jaw, taking Tony the rest of the way down. _That_ was a peculiar sensation. He discovered he had good control over his gag reflex, maybe the serum and maybe not, he was always good at taking medicines in his younger years. Feeling something right there, teasing at the back of his throat, that was very strange. But not bad-strange, he decided after a moment, trying to bob his head the way he’d seen. He glanced up, eyes meeting Tony’s, and the other man was all but shaking with controlled lust, struggling to hold himself still with his pupils blown wide and dark, desiring, the hand in Steve’s hair tightening for an instant before he relaxed it again, his constant stroking stuttering for a moment. And that sight made all of it, the strange sensations and the awkwardness and his own fumbling inexperience, _all_ of it, more than worth it.

“Fuck, _Steve_ ,” Tony panted out breathlessly, thrusting just a tiny bit forward and, huh, okay, that wasn’t as nice, but if he tilted -- and then the head of Tony’s cock was actually _in_ his throat, and he was awful glad he was good at holding his breath because Tony seemed to be rapidly approaching his limit in a very restrained and quietly frantic fashion, and that was _exactly_ what Steve wanted, _yeah, come on, Tony, like you want me, go on_ he thought, hoping a little of the spirit translated through his gaze, still locked on Tony’s. He swallowed around the intrusion, just to see what it was like, and hummed softly in contemplation at the feeling, noting with surprise the reaction that got as Tony’s face scrunched dramatically, grip fluctuating wildly around Steve’s much-neglected dick. “Fuck, fuck, Steve, gonna come, it’s been weeks since I -- please, gonna come,” he was saying, and he noticed Tony was trying to pull back a little, the firm flesh of his rear pressing a little harder into Steve’s hand where he still cupped it, but the stuff he’d found was real clear about how swallowing was better, was the appropriate thing to do, so he just held on, squeezing a little as Tony tugged on his hair to get him to pull off and he retaliated with trying that swallowing thing again to see if that did it. 

Tony gasped, and then Steve would have gasped too if he had been getting any air because the lower end of the girder shard was apparently wider than the top and it was shoving two of his ribs apart as the doctors pulled, but Tony was coming, moaning and holding on and babbling that Steve was beautiful, perfect, amazing, all very meaningless but sweet, as he twitched and spurted his release down Steve’s throat. _Good thing he was all the way down_ , Steve thought, _or I mighta choked when they yanked on that thing,_ and then _huh, he’s slipping out a bit, now_ that’s _an odd taste_. Steve sucked a little more, in part to help get down the last of Tony’s spend, which tasted mostly okay but had kind of a weird texture, a little like unbaked rice pudding, and eased his grip on Tony’s posterior, letting the other man pull back.

“I, uh, that, that doesn’t, I normally, um,” Tony said, and it was _stupidly_ gratifying to have left such an eloquent fella speechless for once. “By which I mean thank you, that was, that was wow. Wow. Okay. Some people are just natural-born talents, I guess, or maybe the serum also had some off-book enhancements. Wow. Um! Right, handjob. Which, oh, good, I hadn’t actually stopped. Also wow.” Even as he rambled, though, Tony sped up, stopped teasing and finally, finally just _touched_ him, and it felt incredible. He saw Tony look up abruptly, attention clearly on something behind Steve, and then nod, asking “You ready, Steve?”

He all but tripped over his own tongue to say “Yes, yes, please, c’mon, feels like it’s been hours, come on.” Tony smiled, shushed him gently, and then kissed him again, all fond warmth and flirty tongue like when Tony was first proposing the plan, and even as he felt the familiar fire of his insides stitching themselves back together again, now free of the metal obstruction, he moaned out a soft “Oh, God,” and then his vision sort of whited out, the pain disappearing in one heady rush.

...

“Hey, you back with us?” he heard a voice, Tony’s voice, murmur what felt like seconds later. He was on his belly, though, and not sticky down _there_ , so he knew some time must have passed.

_How long was I out?_ he asked, or tried to. It came out more like “Hwlng wuzzi ut?” from where his face was mashed into the hospital bed’s pillows, and he just barely raised his head enough to get one eye’s worth of a view of Tony. He noticed Tony was clean too, and at that Steve grunted and managed to push himself onto an elbow, getting a better view and observing that Tony was dressed again, this time in heavy canvas work pants and one of those rock-band teeshirts, holding one of his omnipresent cups of coffee. 

Tony sounded amused as he answered “A couple hours. They were right about the prolactin buildup from the, ah, delay. Knocked you right out, and after that they’re pretty sure the healing kept you out of it, getting your body some rest while you had the chance. The incision’s all healed, you’re good to go, though they said to take it easy since the internal stuff will take a couple more hours to finish off thanks to all the acid, or maybe even into tomorrow if there was any nasty bacteria on the shard. Which,” he said with a little showman’s ‘ta-da’ gesture at the table next to Steve’s bed “you have a souvenir, if you want it. Not everyone loses their virginity with the aid of, they measured it, just shy of 40 kilograms of steel. Now that’s a story to tell the grandkids. Well, if you’re like me and want to scar your grandkids, anyway.” Steve glanced at it, felt faintly queasy at the thought of that thing having been lodged _inside_ him, and shrugged. _It was there, it was painful, now it’s over. Now… now lots of things are over_ , he thought with a frown.

“You know what I haven’t had in forever?” Tony abruptly said. “Shawarma. Really, any kind of rotisserie-oriented meat food. How about you get some pants on -- yeah, your uniform’s in the shop, I brought you civvies and did not burn even _one_ of the hideous pleated khakis I found in your closet, you should feel honored by my restraint -- and we go get some shawarma. Sound good?” He was holding out another cup of coffee invitingly and smiling, slightly strained and almost… hopeful-looking. He looked a lot like he had when the two of them were just starting to really be friends, actually.

“Yeah, Tony,” Steve said, smiling back hesitantly and reaching for the clothes Tony had brought him. “Sounds good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Before all the feels and complicated interpersonal relationships showed up to the party, this was intended to be some pretty straightforward porn. The initial premise, as texted to my beta, was “so, what if Steve gets hurt and Tony has to tease-and-denial him until he can get fixed because regular painkillers don’t work on supersoldiers.” If anyone feels the need to visualize a rather kinkier scenario involving Steve cuffed to the bed with those broad padded medical restraints, largely or completely unaware of his surroundings from pain, and begging helplessly to be allowed to come while the doctors cut on him, well, I certainly cannot stop you.


End file.
